a mind to eat, moreover, rose from bed of my own movement, and as soon as we
had breakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sat down outside in the top
of the wood. It was a grey day with a cool, mild air: and I sat in a dream all
morning, only disturbed by the passing by of Cluny’s scouts and servants
coming with provisions and reports; for as the coast was at that time clear, you
might almost say he held court openly.
When I returned, he and Alan had laid the cards aside, and were questioning a
gillie; and the chief turned about and spoke to me in the Gaelic.
“I have no Gaelic, sir,” said I.
Now since the card question, everything I said or did had the power of
annoying Cluny. “Your name has more sense than yourself, then,” said he
angrily, “for it’s good Gaelic. But the point is this. My scout reports all clear in
the south, and the question is, have ye the strength to go?”
I saw cards on the table, but no gold; only a heap of little written papers, and
these all on Cluny’s side. Alan, besides, had an odd look, like a man not very
well content; and I began to have a strong misgiving.
“I do not know if I am as well as I should be,” said I, looking at Alan; “but the
little money we have has a long way to carry us.”
Alan took his under-lip into his mouth, and looked upon the ground.
“David,” says he at last, “I’ve lost it; there’s the naked truth.”
“My money too?” said I.
“Your money too,” says Alan, with a groan. “Ye shouldnae have given it me.
I’m daft when I get to the cartes.”
“Hoot-toot! hoot-toot!” said Cluny. “It was all daffing; it’s all nonsense. Of
course you’ll have your money back again, and the double of it, if ye’ll make so
free with me. It would be a singular thing for me to keep it. It’s not to be
supposed that I would be any hindrance to gentlemen in your situation; that
would be a singular thing!” cries he, and began to pull gold out of his pocket
with a mighty red face.
Alan said nothing, only looked on the ground.
“Will you step to the door with me, sir?” said I.
Cluny said he would be very glad, and followed me readily enough, but he
looked flustered and put out.
“And now, sir,” says I, “I must first acknowledge your generosity.”
“Nonsensical nonsense!” cries Cluny. “Where’s the generosity? This is just a